Encounter (oneshot)
by J.A.W.C
Summary: Pitch has escaped, not defeated but not strong enough to win. But of course, his luck hasn’t been the best lately, and of course he has to bump into someone. Except they can see him...and they’re not a child. Set directly after the movie.


**Have I been inactive? Yes**

**Have I neglected some stories? Yes**

**Am I going through some shit and hence have decided to write a one shot to relax? Again yes**

**Enjoy this**

**Idk what it is, hopefully the spelling isn't too atrocious because I typed it all on my phone.**

**Notes on the characters:**

**Pitch Black - As he is in the movie with some made up background story**

**Nightcrawler - mix of comics and movies but doesn't adhere to one necessarily, visualised as Wolverine and the X-Men version**

**Notes on the time:**

**Set directly after the events of 'Rise of the Guardians' with some alterations**

Pitch dusted off the remainder of the corrupted sand, sneering in the direction he had run from through shadows. He was far enough that the trees obscured any sign of humans, but the dull drone of the occasional car made itself heard somewhat.

The Guardians, ever so confident, ever so high and mighty that they thought they could understand fear. Turn his creations against him in such a manner that it would destroy him.

He kicked at the snow and began walking.

It was insulting really, but the lack of belief had weakened him; he reasoned that it was better to run and heal in peace, than be beaten to the ground by North's fists.

So he was surprised as any, when he was walking in the forest, to bump into someone.

His first thought was that there was still a child that believed, one which had run into the forest chased by a rogue fear.

But the person stood, and his eyes were level with the Nightmare King's, what little that could been seen of the persons face was decidedly that of a grown man.

But there was something unsettling, no not unsettling but something... different about this figure than other people and indeed adults.

"Are you alright?" The mans voice was kind, a heavy German accent on a sound here and there. His eyes seemed to glow like the Night-Mares.

"Fine" Pitch answered, "how can you see me?"

"You're not exactly hiding"

Pitch snarled, indeed he was slightly annoyed by the happiness which seemed to come so easily to the strangers voice. Happiness and calmness, despite him having fear entrenched deep enough in his psyche that he continued to believe in the Nightmare King.

"But something tells me you should be" the impish voice of the man continued, and he gestured his head in the direction Pitch had stumbled from. North's voice was carried faintly on the breeze, as was the crunching of boots and childish laughter.

"I hide from nothing, people hide from me" Pitch spat, corrupted dream sand twisting itself into a number of Night Mares which eagerly paced around.

"Be that so, I know a man on the run when I see one" the man held up a gloved hand, which seemed to have been disfigured in some gruesome way so there were only three fingers. "But I'm not one to pass judgment without knowing the full story"

"I am the Nightmare King you fool!" Pitch snarled, "I don't care for some mortals judgment!" The Night Mares whinnied and reared up in agreement, a few even charging a couple of steps towards the man. To his credit, he didn't flinch, and despite his face being hidden Pitch could easily imagine him raising an eyebrow in silent mockery; as if he were a child instead of a spirit well over a century old.

"Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you" the man grinned, and light bounced off the snow and shone off white teeth and fangs. "Call me Nightcrawler"

Not human, the thought occurred somewhere in the back of Pitches mind. Not human and possibly and ally, after all the name 'Nightcrawler' did not seem befitting to someone who would support the Guardians.

"It appears your enemies are on your trail, your highness" it somehow irritated Pitch that there wasn't a hint of mockery in Nightcrawler's voice, "I would be willing to lend you a hand in escaping, it would be bad to meet ones end on such a dreary day"

The crunching of shoes seemed closer, and the thought of fighting again so soon made the Nightmare Kings body tremble with exhaustion, though not fear, never fear.

"And what would you want in return?" He inquired, narrowing his eyes and Nightcrawler, "help is never free"

"Company" that damned impish voice, "some company is all I ask"

It felt like he was making a deal with the devil, even though it was widely known the deal-making spirit had long since withdrawn into his own domain; leaving Pitch as one of the few remaining darker spirits.

"Fine" he didn't have a choice, and the Night Mares faded and collapsed in on themselves at a wave of his hand.

"Hope you don't get motion sickness easily" Nightcrawler grabbed his arm, and just as he was about to protest, a portal opened up and swallowed them in the blink of an eye.

It was rapid, had he been human he would have been completely unaware, and from what he could tell Nightcrawler was going off instinct rather than something learned.

The dimension was familiar, brimstone invaded his brain until the only thing he could comprehend was its foul smell, and the red sky.

Another portal, they left the realm behind. Involuntarily he collapsed to his knees, denting the soft snow. Even though he travelled in a similar manner through the shadow world, it was a far different experience to travel through another dimension and when one wasn't controlling the destination. If any organs had remained in use after he became a spirit, they had most definitely been left behind.

On the plus side, Pitch couldn't hear any sounds apart from those made by the wind, and the trees grew densely enough to cast deep and comfortable shadows.

"You still there?" Nightcrawler asked, "because as soft as the snow is, the chairs inside are just as good"

And would also not be obvious reminders of Jack Frost, and how much undeserved power the young spirit had. Pitch stood and dusted the frost off with as much dignity as he could, and looked past Nightcrawler to see the house he had been referring to.

It was an old church, long since abandoned and even longer since built. Broken stained glass windows were boarded over, but the structure itself seemed stable enough.

A suitable enough haunt, and not likely one to be found anytime soon.

Pitch made no comment, but he did take note of the embarrassment the seemed to take over Nightcrawler as he wrenched the door open with his malformed hands.

"Give me a second, I'll find a candle so we're not sitting in the dark" Nightcrawler said as he scurried off.

Pitch could've told him that he could see perfectly well, that he could see how carefully church pews had been repurposed and how well cared for the raised platform, and large cross, were. It seemed that Nightcrawler could see just as well, perhaps better, and Pitch found faint amusement in watching the figure dart over furniture in an almost acrobatic manner as he searched for the promised candle.

Just as he managed to pull the large door shut behind him, he heard a cry of triumph and the room was bathed in a weak golden light. It did little to diminish the shadows which lay claim to the high ceiling, but illuminated enough.

"Please, have a seat your highness" Nightcrawler sat the small light source in an ornate candle-holder, which could have held two more if they had existed.

He could have walked, but instead used the shadows to shift himself to the seat.

To his amusement, Nightcrawler seemed slightly shocked, but quickly recovered and did nothing but tilt his head.

"What exactly are you, Nightcrawler?" He rested back slightly, the Guardians were far away rejoicing in a victory they hadn't strictly succeeded in, and he was in a rather disconcerting domain with a believer.

As far as he was concerned, he had no reason to be worried.

"Half human, or rather mutant, that much I know" he jumped and perched himself on the back of a seat, somehow not tipping it over either through balance or sheer luck, "as for the rest, only God and my mother know"

"Mutant?"

Nightcrawler waved the question away, "another story, told far too many times" he turned his attention back to Pitch. "What of you, what manner of being graces my presence at the moment?"

"A spirit of fear" Pitch grinned, uneven and jagged teeth presenting themselves, "the boogeyman, the King of Nightmares" shadows sharpened themselves, and the candle flickered, "I am Pitch Black"

"Well its a pleasure to meet you then, properly I mean, with your name rather than title" Nightcrawler smiled back, "My real name is Kurt Wagner"

The name, unsettlingly so, seemed familiar.

"A name means nothing without a face" Pitch gestured to the heavy coat and hood Kurt wore, and it seemed to take him a second to realise what the spirit meant.

"Oh" the voice was quiet, and partially shocked Pitch at its apprehensive nature.

'Oh'

He was the creator of nightmares, and Kurt thought he would judge his appearance.

'Oh' how was he meant to respond to 'Oh'

But he was saved the trouble of thinking of an answer, because Kurt seemed to reason with himself in that split second, and pulled back the hood.

'Oh'

He understood slightly more now. Pitch had created similar creatures in some nightmares, and all his creations had eerily similar gold eyes to Kurt. Half human, half something from the deepest human fears.

But that wasn't what made him blink owlishly, it wasn't what made him stand up and prod Kurt's chest to make sure he was real.

"You survived" his voice sounded too quiet, and it bounced off the darkness.

Because how could he have forgotten, somewhere in between the nightmares, when he found a small creature scared and lost, trying to escape the shouts of angered men. Of fearful men.

A small creature, barely grown, whose fear he intensified, for once not for his own gain, but instead to give speed to its thin and malnourished form.

To give it a chance to run.

Because fear was, is, needed for survival.

And Guardian or not, like any other spirit Pitch had his duty.

So maybe fate, and maybe the Man on the Moon, has some mercy for him even after his attacks.

He had a grown believer, one who had learnt from the taste of fear and carried that knowledge to adulthood. That was something the Guardians would never have, could never have, and it brought him more of a sense of victory than if he had won.

"I don't believe I remember you" Kurt said, "but you apparently know me"

"Oh you remember" Pitch felt himself smile, "otherwise you wouldn't be able to see me"

**Thank you for reading, feel free to leave a review.**


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